


Wild Kids

by casey_rat



Series: Little Nightmares 2 - JSHK TBHK AU [1]
Category: Little Nightmares (Video Game), 地縛少年花子くん | Jibaku Shounen Hanako-kun | Toilet-bound Hanako-kun (Manga)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Gen, Little Nightmares (Video Game) - Freeform, Little Nightmares AU, Very little dialogue, Yashiro is a jerk, but like typical girl-jerk, but not for JSHK, dont worry hanako is worried but will go back to being a flirty fucking asshole in the later series, for little nightmares, hanako is a little shit, i am also bad at summaries i guess, im bad at tagging, it's pretty boring but the rest of the fanfics will be yashiro/&hanako-centric, not beta read we die like tsukasa, or something, which is pretty fucking greusome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-27
Updated: 2021-02-27
Packaged: 2021-03-18 01:14:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29726079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/casey_rat/pseuds/casey_rat
Summary: There was a tight pressure on his neck. It felt like his collar was being grabbed, which resulted in a quick, short yelp from the young boy. Suddenly, big feet were crossing the floor. A thump with each step. In an instant, he felt his small frame being pulled back. His little feet stumbled as he was pulled, desperately grabbing at the air, and then behind his back to stop whoever was doing this to him.Had he gotten caught? So fast?“He--!” A small, cold hand meshed with his mouth and his lips. This person obviously couldn’t see this well: a few fingers slipped in, causing him to gag. Something wet smeared on his cheek from the friction of the white wrist over his mouth. This person’s hands were not clean. Who knew of the dirt and crime that he had on his tongue right now? A small, choked whimper rose from his throat.
Relationships: Hanako | Yugi Amane & Yashiro Nene, Hanako | Yugi Amane/Yashiro Nene, kinda not really - Relationship
Series: Little Nightmares 2 - JSHK TBHK AU [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2184684
Kudos: 10





	Wild Kids

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! Writer 'casey' here, please don't mind the occasional switches to first person from Hanako's POV. I wrote it in Google Docs and had so many italics, but it didn't copy over, and I don't think that AO3 has an italics font. I would have gone over it if it weren't for the fear that if I used an italics generator, some people might not be able to read it on their device. Sorry! Please bear with me. This is my first fanfiction on AO3, and I haven't exactly written in over a year  
> (P.S: this fanfiction is entirely from Hanako's POV, Third Person Limited. You won't be getting to hear Yashiro's thoughts)
> 
> It's based on the game 'Little Nightmares 2', and will be going over a few spoilers; though the situations won't be entirely copied from the game itself. I'm adding new monsters and new scenarios too. I hope you enjoy the reading. Though be warned, it's pretty much nothing, since Hanako doesn't meet Yashiro for the good first half of the fanfiction. The next fanfictions in the series will be way better, as it'll focus on their relationship a little bit more.

Chapter 1  
' ' The Wilderness , , Flashes of black and white blinded my vision. Freezing-hot pain enveloped my entire body before I came to. I opened my eyes to gauge my surroundings.  
Outlines of pale forestry and foliage lined my vision. It was dark, as if it were night, but not completely dark. He could still see the entire background until it faded into a light greyish-blue. Fog clouded the dying grass in the distance. It looked as if it were about to rain on a dark morning. Cicadas burned in his ears, though it wasn’t summer. Perhaps it was just tinnitus. The wind whistled his name as he attempted to sit up.

It became apparent fairly quickly that this wasn’t the best idea.

His arms were weak, wobbly and could barely push himself from the dirty ground. Blood rushed from his head, and consequently, the boy winced. A noise rose from the back of his throat, but he dared not to let it out. Vertigo took over, threatening to let him drop back to the grimey floral ground that he laid on for God knows how long.  
Where am I? That was his first thought. His black, choppy hair was turned messy during the incident. The boy’s black attire and hands were dusted with dirt. He leaned onto a broken TV as he scanned his area. Straight ahead was a brown path, which went on for a while. There were objects in the distance that he couldn’t quite see. Aside from the path, the forest was dense and littered with bulky, the old TVs that would take up way more space than necessary.  
“Urhg,” Was the only thing that came out of his mouth when he touched the white patch on his left cheek. There was a wound there that he couldn’t let get infected, hence the white ‘bandage’. 

It’s odd.  
I can’t seem to remember the most important details: where I am, and why. Yet, I could imagine a simple injury? He had been messing with his telescope, when one of his pieces fell off and scratched his cheek. It wasn’t a big scratch, but it drew enough blood that it could be mistaken for one. Had he ever found that piece, after it dropped to the floor and rolled somewhere?

Yugi, Amane. His name was Amane, wasn’t it? 13 years old.. Or, was it 14? Tricky. His physical symptoms went as quickly as they came, which was- albeit, not that fast. There was still a dull pounding in his head and his stomach, and his legs ache like he ran a marathon right before ending up here.  
Did I? Was his first thought. Maybe he was supposed to be running from something. The brown, dead TV next to him had a shattered screen.  
We’re not going to get anywhere by just standing here.

A small feeling of dread developed in his stomach. We? Was someone else supposed to be here with him? It was hazy; hard to remember what exactly happened. He wasn’t alone before he got here. Where is…?  
I can’t remember who was supposed to be here, right by my side.

“Hello?” Amane’s voice was hoarse from underuse. He was dehydrated, but not yet hungry. Birds close to the ground crowed and flew away when he called. Their wings crashing against air made the boy jump (rather uselessly, as he was still holding onto the ledge of the dark-screened box that was almost as tall as he was. “Televisions aren’t supposed to be this big.. Are they?” He asked the air, silence meeting his question. As if someone would answer.

With great strength, he pushed off from the TV and started down the path. Soft crunching under his boots provided his head with healing effects. His ears were no longer ringing; no longer hot with static and inability to hear. It was quite the mystery, this forest.  
Silence as he trudged on through the forest, keeping to the path that guided him. 

Not long after he began his walk, Amane encountered many difficulties. Two obvious pressure-triggered rope traps, bear traps, great heights: broken bridges and large drops, all which he had to carefully maneuver around, otherwise it would cause him his life. It’s scary, I’ll admit.  
He also turned his vision from an abundance of gruesome views. Bodies hung limply, rolled up in a bag hanging from the overhanging branches. Rotten flesh and guts littered the floor in multiple spaces- flies were everywhere. It really leaves you to wonder, who is trying to keep us out? What kind of world am I in where this is acceptable? Am I about to meet God? 

Amane trembled- not quite because of the cold- after he genuinely bunny-hopped up wooden, molded stairs onto a gigantic porch. It was eerily still, except the dull orange light flickered from the open window. The door handle was far too high to reach. Giants, maybe? A fairytale?  
Something in his gut told him not to knock.  
Instead, the boy took an alternate route- right through the window. He jumped up onto wooden crates and onto the window sill, peering in at the revolting mess that scattered the kitchen. There’s no signs of life- that phrase was taken to the next level. 

Viscera and guts spilling out in a crockpot on a table precariously dragged to the middle of the kitchen. The counters weren’t better either, and plates were stacked up past boarded windows in the sink. The furniture was rusted and dirty, and that teapot that stood on the burner probably hasn’t been used in years. Even so, it was still burning some water right now. The cooktop was off, but there was definitely some steam emanating from the vessel. He stepped down off the window sill and onto the counter- Squelch!

Oh, god.

Jackpot! Right on some excess blood and innards! With the state of the room, it would have been obvious to check where you’re standing, right?!  
Amane’s eyes darkened as he gagged on the smell, shaking his shoe out in front of him, gently in order to avoid splatter while desperately attempting to get the gunk off. He didn’t even want to question what or who this was a part of before it was reduced to… this.

His thoughts and senses wandered, and before he knew it, he was scuttering on the floor like a mouse, out into the next room. He didn’t want to be in that kitchen any longer than he had to.

Dear, what was this all for? What was his goal-- purpose, here?

Escape. He ended up in a hallway after pushing open the door, in an upside down T-shape from the kitchen entry. A cracked window adorned with tattered and pale curtains let in some light from the gloomy outsides. Behind him was a door into a small room: a stairwell. Stairs leading down, into a cold and dark basement. Yellow light illuminated scattered paper at the floor of the steps. There wasn’t any noise, so that would mean that it would be safe to travel down, right?

Pro Tip: Basements are terrible places to be.

He got to the end of the stairs, gazing upon yarn balls, loose fabric, and sacks of cotton all stationed messily around a wooden table. There was a sewing machine and basket up there, though there looked to be no signs of use, since it was covered in dust. The hanging light flickered above the ravenette. “I probably shouldn’t be standing directly under a swinging light…” He mumbled out loud, matter-of-factly.  
To the left was a dark room, no lights turned on in sight. Yeah, no thank you. The door was ajar, so he could clearly see yards of fabric on tables. For some odd reason, the fabric in clear view was way too thick and lumpy to not give him rancid ideas of what could be under there.  
To his right was another door, wood torn in places near the bottom so blue light could spill through. There seemed to be a rug, and a window at least. It was slightly wedged open by a block of wood. Alright, anything but the dark room!

He squeezed through the small opening, almost tripping over his feet as he stumbled into the room. Dirty rug. Metal crates. Table. Window, sealed up tight. Darn.  
The walls were decorated with chalk drawings of faceless children and small triangle-shaped things with eyes, arms, and legs. It sort of reminded him of a gnome; or maybe just a triangle on wheels. Tally marks accompanied the eerie drawings, a group of 6 and fading marks. Like prisoners counting their days spent in cells. 

I hope whoever was trapped here is okay. It doesn’t smell horrible, and there’s no buzzing from flies- so maybe they’re alive!

A metal tin-like box sat in the middle of the rug, rolling away from Amane’s foot. He didn’t see it and kicked it by accident, but it hadn’t rolled very far, since there seemed to be a handle sticking out of it.

The boy cautiously stepped over to the outdated toy, flipping it upright. Within seconds, he was turning the crank. A small, light tune played: continuous and pitched, like a children’s lullaby. It wasn’t too creepy as this situation would be, logically. Like a blanket, though not quite as warm. 

It was calming, but for some reason something dark was settling in the pit of his stomach. His cold hands let go of the toy as he stared, contemplating its existence. 

Suddenly, he let out a short, shaky breath. A slight chuckle caught in his throat.  
Well, that was dumb.  
He continued back out the room, heaving himself up the stairs and down through the hall. He peered to the right, seeing a big door. It looked like it was the front door that led outside. There were quite a few scattered shoes and clothing items all over the floor. There was a shoe cabinet and a dresser, which obviously didn’t seem to be put to good use at all. It looked like nothing useful there.

Almost slipping on the disheveled rug, Amane ran to the left. There was a decaying elk head mounted on the wall as he ran through the opened door that he promptly ignored. Maybe, if he gets out alive, he won’t suffer as much emotional trauma. 

But to be fair, this dining area wasn’t any good either.

Downright creepy.

A light hung above the table, decorated generously with viscera and goop on glass platters. Three chairs, occupied. Three mannequins- I hope- visibly deformed and sitting there. Unmoving, unalive, and uncomfortably setting a feeling into the air. Looking at the boy’s gigantic eyeball falling out of its socket was enough to make our sweet protagonist lose his appetite for God knows how long. 

More giant dressers, peculiarly placed by a small opening. He couldn’t open any of the doors, as their handles were out of jump range, but he sure could climb. So he did. He climbed the drawer handles and threw himself out the square opening in the wall, landing awkwardly on the hardwood floor. In hindsight, he should have realized that this definitely wasn’t a smart move.

Sighing, he dusted off his dirty clothes and moved on. There was a pull-handle hanging far from the ground. He could reach it if he tried, but it looks like somebody already did that. There was a drop-down ladder leading into an attic of some sort. Dust floated above him and there was dirt on the floor. He was about to climb the latter, when he heard shuffling out the door behind him. Amane flinched, hesitating before going through the door.

Immediately, it was cold.

Harsh winds bit at his exposed hands and face, causing shivers to envelope his body. This must have been a backdoor, since it led outside. There wasn’t a lot out there. Something that looked like an outside toilet, along with a clothing line, a shovel, and crates lining the outside of yet another wooden structure. A shed? Either way, the breaking door was propped open with a fairly large rock. 

Dying leaves crunched under his shoes as he made his way across. He went inside the shed, noticing that suddenly, the air was still.

Was it a hallucination?

I swear, I saw somebody’s hair.

Skeptical, he climbed the boxes next to yet another square hole in the wall. High up enough to seem useless, when there was a door to the right of this opening. There was another person here! Her hair was long and dark in the light- at least, he assumed it was a girl. The hair was pretty long and she looked to be wearing a dress.

Amane hoisted himself through the hole in the wall as he had done many times in the past, jumping down onto a lump of… fabric? No- not quite. It was more of…

More like… skinned animal fur.

Skrrch!

The noise was revolting as it filled his ears and his head. It sounded like fabric ripping; but it was having trouble.

Swallowing his anxiety, he made his way out of this.. Sideroom. That’s what it must have been, right? It was slightly covered by a wall, yet still open. There was white light seeping in through the second room. 

A little girl came through here, right?

Shock, a feeling of dread settled in the pits of his abdomen. What if… What if…?

A visual painted in his head. He didn’t bother to look around the room before stepping into the doorway. What if it wasn’t a dead animal that was being skinned, what if it was-

Upon seeing the monster, he gasped. Dramatically, and a bit loud, too. He shoved his hand over his mouth, as if it will stop what’s already done.  
Whoever-- Whatever this was had a dirty sack over its head, wearing a tan cloak. His attire seemed to match the colour scheme, beige and bloody. Seconds past like minutes as this.. Sack man turned his head costively to look at the doorway. 

There was a tight pressure on his neck. It felt like his collar was being grabbed, which resulted in a quick, short yelp from the young boy. Suddenly, big feet were crossing the floor. A thump with each step. In an instant, he felt his small frame being pulled back. His little feet stumbled as he was pulled, desperately grabbing at the air, and then behind his back to stop whoever was doing this to him.

Had he gotten caught? So fast?

“He--!” A small, cold hand meshed with his mouth and his lips. This person obviously couldn’t see this well: a few fingers slipped in, causing him to gag. Something wet smeared on his cheek from the friction of the white wrist over his mouth. This person’s hands were not clean. Who knew of the dirt and crime that he had on his tongue right now? A small, choked whimper rose from his throat.  
Footsteps were coming nearer and the person holding him captive shushed him quietly. He was forced to sit on the ground with his chest to the floor, as hidden as possible amongst the dark corners of the side room. It should have raised red flags, but he was too frightened by the sack man- who was now holding a lantern in one hand and a shotgun in the other- was now looming uncomfortably close by the corner in which they hid. 

Amane felt continuous soft, hot breath on his neck while he held his own. His captor was hovering over his back, making the hairs on his nape stand straight. This position was uncomfortable- that might have been an understatement. One of his arms was pinned behind his back while soft cream hair strands that faded into lime tickled his nose. Not to mention there was a monster thousands of times larger than they were hovering around with a lantern and a shotgun. 

Thankfully, it looked like this.. This hunter didn’t seem to have great eyesight. As long as they were quiet and still, his light serenely passed by. Before they knew it, the Hunter was leaving: loud steps out of the room and squeaky door hinges from an unfamiliar door marking his exit.

Silence for another few seconds. 2… 3…  
He squirmed, and hard. Her dirty and tattered dress fell by his thighs as he kicked and rocked underneath her. “Get off!” He breathily spoke, glaring at the wall as he couldn’t quite let his gaze meet the girl’s. For a moment, she hesitated before lifting her presence from the boy below her. He jumped up, wobbling briefly before he slapped his hands to the wall for support. “What is wrong with you?!” He whisper-shouted, staring into the girl’s dark face. It was a little hard to see, but he could clearly make out some of her features thanks to the window light. 

Her eyes were a deep magenta colour, contrasting with her hair and skin greatly. She was as pale as a ghost and her hair was only a bit darker. It fell over her face and her eyes, messily ending at her hips in a teal-green. Must be uncomfortable, he pondered for a moment, the cream colour might be natural, but the green surely is dyed, right? Maybe she just got something in her hair- the thought disgusted him. She was wearing what seemed to be a school girl’s uniform, off-white with charcoal accents. She even had a striped bow and a white cartoon-looking skull piece in the middle to add to the look. He could only get the general idea though, because it was cloaked with shadow and- probably dirt, and anything else you can get on your hands out here. In here.

Her eyes darkened and her face scrunched into a glare. “What’s wrong with you?!” She matched my quiet tone, before turning the question on me.  
“Eh?”  
“You nearly got me killed!”  
“You killed?! I nearly got myself killed!” He didn’t want to have to thank her for saving him.  
The girl huffed, hair puffing out for an instant as her breath met the dirty locks of cream that framed her face. “I was standing behind you.”  
Oh. He didn’t notice.  
“The entire time!” She explained, fidgeting. “If he saw you, he would have found me too.”  
He was quiet. What could he say? Sorry?  
“...Do you have any idea what’s on your hands? You got it in my mouth!” A swift subject change.  
“Try not having a death wish next time.” She spoke sharply, raising her voice just a tad. He didn’t have the time to say anything else before she was on her feet, running barefoot across the floor and out into the next room. 

And, well, he did the only thing he could think of! Follow her!

She was maybe halfway across the room before he began catching up, jogging as quickly and as casually as his feet could carry him. It seemed like the door that the hunter left out of was closed now, but there was an opening in the wall. Near the floor this time, thankfully; he didn’t want to do anymore climbing. His arms and legs would be aching by tomorrow morning.

She placed her hands against the wooden latch, pushing hard. It barely budged. She grunted as she struggled to no avail. He stood behind her, able to catch up during her struggling. For a second it seemed like she was gonna give up or something, but instead, she turned her head to look him in the eyes before speaking.  
“Are you going to just stand there?” She asked, magenta boring into his orange orbs.

After being caught like a deer in headlights, he was too nervous to make up any snide remarks. He was at her side, hands pushed up just a few centimeters from her own dirtied hands. They pushed together, despite the hesitation of working together. Amane felt his feet slipping from within his shoes- he dared to look down and notice the red smudges on the floor leading out. He’ll try not to think about what’s about to happen.

I wouldn’t say we got off on a bad foot, but there was definitely some tension here.

He swallowed his apprehension, right before being thrown headfirst outside of the shed as the hatch was pushed out. He was going to breathe a sigh of relief, before he felt the freezing cold red pile of guts they had fallen into.  
The blood tried to stain his black clothes, and he had no time to react before the mystery girl followed after her.  
He heard the sound of viscera pressing against each other underneath heavy weight in his ears again, cringing at the sound.  
“Ah-!” She yelped, clearly not expecting it. He plucked up the courage to stare at the damage. Her white skirt was threatening to turn burgundy, and her hands along with her legs from the shins down were coated with blood. Both of their hands were also in the same state, yet his legs were protected by his black pants. “This is disgusting-” She choked, wearing a mask of grimace and horror on her face as she stood up and picked up her dress so the bottom didn’t get stained any more. She was right- and the smell was putrid. She slid down the pile of gutted animal insides and he did the same-- with slightly less grace, and much less passion.  
“You--”

Their potential conversation was cut horribly short as the Hunter came back into view, and oh God, it seems he’s seen them. His loaded shotgun barely missed them and they dived behind a crate for cover.  
He saw them there, he must have- because the next time his shotgun fired, there was deafening ringing in his ears. The wooden crate shattered under impact, and he looked to his right to see that the girl had been okay, too. Though, she was running. He quickly followed after her, running to another crate for cover. This process repeated.

We’d hide behind the crates, it would be demolished within 5 seconds, it would be so loud, we’d run again. 

There were no more hiding places, they were dead, weren’t they? He grabbed her hand and rushed forward, jumping a cliff. Well, it wasn’t actually a cliff, but it sure felt like one. 

There!

He pulled the girl backwards, into a small indent in the step. If they were found, they would be toast- but he didn’t want to think about that. He was just about to accept ‘fate’ right then and there. 

The Hunter stepped down, looming with his back to the two. He stood there for a minute, searching through the grass with his lantern before moving on into the field itself.  
He breathed a sigh of relief, letting the cream-haired girl push away from her spot pressed up against him. She was taller than him, but assumed it was only because she was older. I keep referring to her as ‘the girl’, I should ask for her name after all this. He decided; they have to keep moving. He didn’t care for holding her hand as he went on ahead, crouching in the winded grass as the Hunter scanned the area as best he could with his limited vision- occasionally moving up a bit before scanning again. He just had to follow that pace-- They had to. He wasn’t alone anymore. It felt natural: like something that had been taken from his was suddenly returned.

But he didn’t know anything of the girl who crouched behind him. Amane tried to conjure up a name for the face, but nothing had stricken him. He had to stop himself from audibly humming in thought, as they were still in a life or death situation and this was not something he should be thinking about now.

For a second, his life flashed before his eyes.  
The yellow light from the candle in the lantern was on him, and he directed his face into the light in an attempt to see the Hunter face-to-face. He almost started running, if it weren’t for the light flying away from him again.

His heart was in his throat, and his new companion was equally as startled.

Once the cold heat was off of them, they started moving forward again.  
The grass was ending.

The cream-haired girl grabbed his arm and dived for a hole in the ground, presumably made by an animal who liked to burrow. Probably a rabbit. They heard grunts from the Hunter behind them, and the light was down the burrow in an instant. Yeah, he heard them, but they were far gone before a bullet could graze their bodies.

They stood deep in the rabbit’s hole, panting on their knees for God knows how long before something happened.  
That was possibly the worst experience of my life.

Each breath scratched his dry throat, and he fell to the dirt floor of the burrow. Hopefully nothing was still alive here. He sputtered, spitting out the rocks and foliage that entered his mouth from the fall.

She crouched beside him, hand hovering over his back. “Are you alright?” She spoke, before taking a deep breath. She must have been terrified too, right?

“..’M dizzy,” he replied in a tired, small voice. She couldn’t understand the first half, but clicked her tongue distastefully.  
“Looks like we’re going to be working together from here on out!” She announced, rolling him over onto his back so he wasn’t breathing in dirt. She didn’t seem too concerned with his body’s current state. He got a good look of her legs, caked in drying blood. It was hard to tell if it might have been her own or if it was purely animal blood, but it was disgusting either way.  
“Hey.” She scolded darkly, glare meeting his gaze as she pushed her dress down. “Keep your eyes up here, boy.” 

In an instant, his cheeks were hot with pink. “I-I wasn’t-”  
“Save it! What’s your name?!” She pointed an accusing finger at him.  
“A--” He hesitated, coughing awkwardly to make up for the stuttering. He didn’t want to give her his name, but if he didn’t say anything, that would be bothersome.  
Quick, come up with something.  
“Hanako,” He replied at last, a flash of a red flower pushed itself through his memories.  
She held a blank expression, almost expectant. “Hanako? Just, Hanako?”  
“What’s your name?” He countered, demanding.  
“Nene. Yashiro, Nene.” She replied, matching his sour tone.  
“Well, Yashiro,” Her name rolled off his tongue like poison in his mouth, “Thank you for saving me. I wasn’t looking up your skirt.”

“Like hell!”

...This girl..

This was it. A start to a new adventure: their very first, in an unfortunate Nightmare world.


End file.
